


The First Day, We're Starting It In Our Bedroom After The War.

by Velocity_Owl87



Series: The Omega's Tales [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftermath, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Childbirth, Children, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Family Reunions, Forgiveness, Identity Issues, Mating, Multi, Peace, Rebuilding, Self-Acceptance, Slice of Life, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1253926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/pseuds/Velocity_Owl87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So the war that Aragorn, Arwen, Boromir, Faramir, Amroth, Fili and the rest of the Free Middle Earth races fought in "Will you force me to stay, or will you help me run away?" is finally over. So what are they to do now that all that is left is to rebuild? </p><p>Five scenes and five glimpses of different conclusions to the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Day, We're Starting It In Our Bedroom After The War.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third part of a series that started with "Will Force Me To Stay, Or Will You Help Me Run Away?" and continued with "The Walking Wounded, All Alone." 
> 
> I honestly wasn't intending to write this, but after a visit to the DDR Museum in what was once East Berlin planted the seed somewhat. The first scene came to me and this was written as an epilogue of sorts because I was also curious as to what happens after and how lives would be rebuilt.
> 
> Proofed and edited, but if there are mistakes, I apologize and they will be fixed. 
> 
> Title is a play on the Star's "In our bedroom after the war"

 

One

Arwen entered her room, mindful of the time she had to strip out of her training gear and into something presentable. They were leaving for the beginning round of talks soon and as part of the Rivendell court, she had to be presentable. She sighed as she pulled out the hair tie that kept her braid together and walked over to the closet where her father had told her she would find suitable clothing. On the way there, she passed by her wardrobe and had to go to it.

She paused and stood in front of the wardrobe that had housed her weapons for so long and looked at the contents, taking everything in with one glance: The battered, but still deadly guns. The knives and the stockpiles of ammunition. Her flak vests. All of it rendered unnecessary by the defeat of the Alliance and the peace talks that the Canadians and the EU were supervising. She sighed heavily as she closed the heavy doors and walked away.

She was no longer needed as a soldier and as per the agreement; all the combatants had to put their weapons down until the peace accords were agreed upon. She had been forced to put down her guns, something she hadn’t done in as long as she could remember. She had always had a gun close at hand. She had always been on guard. They were asking her to become a civilian when all she had known was war.

Arwen rubbed her forehead and went to her closet. She opened the door and made a face as she took in the dark blue gown that was hanging there, along with a deep violet cloak. She snorted in utter disbelief. She was supposed to just transform herself in an hour? Her father was surely not serious. But she knew that he was, or else he wouldn’t have bothered to put it in her closet in the first place.

She had discovered it in her closet that morning and had pretended to not see it. Had pretended to not know what it was a symbol of. She knew that it had been placed there in preparation for the summons that Rivendell had received. Although she was grateful for her father’s (and possibly her grandmother’s) foresight, she couldn’t help but to grit her teeth at the sight of the heavy velvet dress.

How was she supposed to just stop being a soldier when it was all that she had ever known? She had never expected to ever be a civilian, not when there was so much to fight for. Maybe if the Alliance hadn’t broken their word and endangered her grandfather, things would have been different. She could have grown up with her mother and built a home in which to take an Omega home. But as it was, her Grandfather was maimed and tainted and her mother had to flee.

Her mouth tightened at the memory of her mother leaving. A memory that she simply couldn’t share with anyone who believed that she was too young to really recall it. She remembered her mother’s hands stroking back her hair and the softness of her lips as she tearfully bid them all goodbye. Arwen could also remember when her mother had put Elladan into Grandfather’s arms and then being gone, leaving them bereft and grieving.

She didn’t understand for the longest time that it had to be done. She hadn’t understood that Omegas had to be kept safe and that the Alliance was making it impossible to do so. It hadn’t sunk in until she had pieced Grandfather’s and Amroth’s story together. It hadn’t really hit her completely until Aragorn was snatched away.

It was then that she realized that mother’s departure had been necessary for her personal safety and to spare her the grief that Grandfather had to endure. Amroth had never been around when Grandmother had asked for Arwen and she had gradually forgotten him, since he was never a big part of her life to begin with and Grandmother had forbidden to have him in the house. She had never explicitly said so, but Arwen had a feeling that even if Elrohir and Elladan had wanted it, Amroth would never be welcome in Lothlorien. Ever. Not only was he not fully Elvish, he was the stark reminder of Celeborn’s fall from grace. And Galadriel’s ultimate failure.

As it was, Elladan had distanced himself from Grandmother and Elrohir was too closely attached to his little Omega brother to follow through. She had wanted questions, but had resigned herself on never getting them. Grandmother had remained icily silent on Amroth and Arwen knew better than to even think about broaching the subject with her. Besides, there had been a war going on and Aragorn to find.

But now that Aragorn was no longer available and she was to be present as a witness to the talks, she could ask. But there was no point. Not when she was all too aware of the pain of losing who she thought would be her mate for the rest of her life.

Arwen reached out and stroked the fabric of the dress, wincing as her calloused fingertips caught the fabric. She remembered grandmother having dresses like those, hidden away in the back and smelling only slightly musty and tangy with lavender and other flowers. Grandmother never wore them though. Not after Grandfather left to live in Rivendell. She wondered if that was Grandmother’s way of saying goodbye to who she had been. The leader of Lothlorien that couldn’t even keep her consort and Omega safe.

“Arwen?”

Grandmother’s voice snapped her out of her morbid and useless musings and brought her back to the present. She was to be ready and she was dawdling away time daydreaming. But at least Grandmother was there to help her out. Despite being caught out, she resolved to not act like a child and simply get on with it. It was just a dress. The rest would surely follow.

She turned around and felt the blood drain from her face when she saw who it was that had said her name. She had expected it to be grandmother standing there. After all, she was the

“Nana?” She whispered, her hand going to her mouth as she took in the person that was standing there.

Celebrian smiled as she moved swiftly towards her daughter, who rushed into her arms and embraced her tightly. Arwen held on, closing her eyes and taking in her mother’s clean lavender scent. Tears sprung to her eyes and she shut her eyes to stop them from spilling.

But they still came as Celebrian stroked her hair, combing it out with her fingers as her daughter clung to her as if she was the only lifeline she had in the world.

“Nana.” Arwen choked on the word.

“It’s all right, Henig. It’s all right.”

Two

Legolas stirred his coffee as he watched Eomer move about their kitchen with a quickness that Legolas hadn’t seen in him ever since they had been assigned quarters together. He had always thought that Eomer lived in a perpetual state of angry exhaustion and could barely put a bowl of oatmeal together to keep himself fed and had forced Legolas to look out for him lest he ended up starving.

But after the flood of refugees had come through the border and Eowyn, his long missing Omega sister had been among them, Eomer had changed. And changed so drastically that Legolas had to wonder if he had ever really known the man at all. It had also made him wonder if the bond that they had between them was nothing more than a war friendship that would fade with time, or if there was truly potential for it to last once everything was said and done.

After having lived with Eomer for much longer than anyone other than his family, the idea of them moving on and eventually growing apart made him sad. Eomer was one of the few people he could trust. He just hoped that wasn’t going to be the case.

Eomer had basically calmed down overnight and had somehow gotten more responsible when Legolas wasn’t looking. Rather than him getting Eomer to eat, to get some sleep, it was Eomer doing that and more to his sister, much to her mate’s amusement. And to him, which was a bit odd, since he had been taking care of the both of them for so long. The change jarred Legolas more than he wanted to admit and it made him wonder how much he had missed.

The idea that despite long hours of conversations, shifts and patrols had done very little to show him what Eomer was really like made Legolas feel like he was as unobservant as an elfling. Or worse yet, that he had grown complacent being out of the brunt of the heavy fighting. Unlike his granddad and the Rivendell and Lothlorien elves, who were lean and had the fluid moves of trained fighters and the hundred yard stares to complement their skills.

Even Elladan Rivendell, he noted a tad enviously, had that despite being an Omega. He took out the spoon and stuck it in his mouth, sucking it clean before putting it in the sink and rinsing it clean. He drank his coffee and tried to not feel resentment against his father.

He couldn’t blame his Ada for the choices he had made. There had been a war going on and his Nana had just passed away. Greenwood had been destroyed and they had no home. Legolas had often wondered if Greenwood had existed if he would have maybe presented as Beta or even an Alpha. If maybe being torn from his home had doomed him to the sidelines instead of making him the warrior to follow in his family’s footsteps of service.

He smiled to himself and snorted delicately as he drank down his coffee. He’d never know. Even if his Ada and Grandfather and Glorfindel were quite possibly toying with the idea of going back, it wouldn’t matter. Mirkwood would never be the same place they had left. The connections had been severed and Legolas was sure that going back would be more painful and pointless than anything else. No. He was quite sure that Mirkwood would remain in exile.

And he would eventually be claimed and bonded and eventually breed the new scion of the Mirkwood elf line.  He made a face at the thought, but it wasn’t as off-putting or as humiliating as it first had been when the idea had occurred to him. He had to wonder if it was due to having Eowyn and Faramir living with them as they waited for their paperwork to go through.

Eowyn was breeding, much to Faramir and her surprise. Although it wasn’t horribly obvious to anyone outside their circle, it was still there. Even Legolas, who wasn’t related to her, could scent the milky sweetness under her own scent that signalled pregnancy. A sweetness that seemed to permeate all of the house and make Legolas want to either settle down or run away screaming from the idea of having the same for himself.

And if he did want the second option, the question was with whom could he do that? He didn’t really know other Alpha elves if he was honest with himself. Nor had he actually taken the time to find out if they were bonded or even interested in bonding. He suspected that Glorfindel had someone and that Haldir maybe could have been a possibility. Cirdan was his father’s and grandfather’s contemporary. At the thought, Legolas wrinkled his nose.

At the exact moment that Eomer put down a dish of the best breakfast he had ever seen outside of a restaurant.

“Gee, all the effort I put in for you and that’s what I get? Thanks.”

Eomer snarked, making Legolas roll his eyes and throw his wadded up napkin at Eomer, who ducked and turned back to the counter laughing at Legolas’ poor aim. It was a mystery how he was so good at arms training was so bad when it came to hitting his target elsewhere. It was also the one thing that Eomer would constantly tease him about until Legolas would finally whack him with a pillow when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Something on your mind, Lee?” Eomer asked as he brought his own plate to the table and sat across from him.

Legolas looked at Eomer, taking in his neater and healthier appearance. Legolas shrugged.

“Just noticing the changes. Feels like I didn’t really know you at all.”

Eomer laughed before picking up his cutlery.

“Nah, that was me on a very off time, but it’s still me. I was just...more focused on other things. Namely getting my sister away from those bastards and trying to bring them down. I just wasn’t seeing what was around me as clearly as I could have.”

He looked up at Legolas and his eyes softened into the same slightly amused gaze he always had when he thought Legolas was being odd in ways he couldn’t understand.

“So this is you being normal? I could get used to it if it meant getting breakfast like this all the time.”

Eomer rolled his eyes at that and proceeded to start eating his eggs. Legolas took this as a cue to shut up and eat some more. But before he did, he noticed his cup was nearly empty and that Eomer didn’t even have a cup of coffee himself.

Without ado, he got them both coffee and sat down, only to find Eomer staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.  Eomer took the cup and drank the coffee his eyes closing slightly as he savoured the perfect mixture of two sugars and more than a splash of milk.

“Yeah, well. The war’s done. We’re in the peace talks now. I can focus on other things.”

Eomer put his cup down and looked straight at Legolas.

“Namely on what I want to do now that I can actually have a life.”

Legolas nodded.

“Like getting a mate.”

“Did you have anyone in mind?” Legolas asked delicately, wondering why his heart was racing as he asked.

“Other than you? No one. And you?”

Legolas swallowed hard before speaking.

“The same.”

Eomer smiled in mixed relief and joy.

“So...We’re doing this?”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

“Cool. Is there more coffee?”

“Only if you promise me you’re the one talking to your dad about this.”

“Deal.”

Three

Aragorn clamped his lips shut and breathed through his nose as another wave of pain went through him. Sweat was dripping down his hairline and sliding down his nose and he had never been so grateful as when Celeborn reached over and wiped it away.

“How far apart were the last two?” Aragorn asked as he gratefully took a sip of the water that Boromir was offering him. He spared his mate a tired smile before another contraction hit, making him sit up in the bed and moan brokenly.

“About five minutes. You’re close. It hopefully won’t be long now. The first one is always the hardest one.” Celeborn replied as he and Boromir helped to settle him back on the bed.

“Can’t you give him something for the pain?” Boromir asked, his voice tight with worry over the pain that his mate had been enduring ever since they had woken up to their bed soaked and Aragorn clutching at his middle as their child had decided he was ready to come into the world.

That had been at least four hours ago and it was just now that Celeborn had announced that Aragorn was getting somewhere. Boromir had been with him the whole time, getting him water and helping him walk whenever he got tired of lying on his side while waiting for the pain to subside. Or for the actual labour to begin. Something that Boromir desperately wished he had the power to start in order to end the protracted circle of hell that Aragorn was currently inhabiting.

Boromir had always been one to take action. He had been a brilliant general because he could assess the situation and provide a solution. But right now, he found himself helpless as he watched Aragorn fight a battle that he had no way to be a part of. He could only watch as Aragorn grit his teeth through the pain. It was war, yet it wasn’t one he was familiar with.

Just like he wasn’t familiar or comfortable with being a by-stander.

Even if he was familiar with pain, that was something that he wanted to spare his mate.

“He’ll be fine, even if it doesn’t look it. I know it’s hard. But have faith in him. Battles aren’t always fought with armies and it isn’t always Alphas that fight them.Nor do they always mean death. Life is also a battle to be fought, despite what you think.”

Celeborn responded, making Boromir blink at that. He instantly felt embarrassed that he had, despite his good intentions, demeaned his mate. Something that he had promised himself he was never going to do.

He looked at Aragorn, whose gaze was turned inward, as if he was searching for the time to take action and pressed a kiss on his temple. Aragorn let out a surprised noise and looked at Boromir tiredly.

“Forgive me.”

Aragorn huffed a laugh and pushed at his mate.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He bit out before he screwed up his face and grabbed at Boromir’s hand, squeezing with such force that Boromir actually saw stars for a moment as Aragorn screamed through the pain. Neither of them heard Celeborn’s instructions, but it was all too obvious what was happening. The baby was finally coming and Aragorn had nothing else in his mind except to finally push and force the child into the world.

Aragorn lost track of time, of who was with him and anything else that wasn’t labour. He was struggling and red faced, his hair lank and sticking damply to his face when he finally felt something in his lower body pop. He was crying, or maybe that was just the sweat that was plastering his shirt to his back. He heard the comforting murmurs of Boromir’s voice and the scent of blood filled the air.

He heard Celeborn give him more instructions and he obeyed blindly. His eyes stung and his lips cracked as he grimaced. He squeezed his eyes shut and he knew that it was the end. He gave one last push and it happened.

“It’s a boy. Congratulations to you both.”

There was a flurry of activity when the announcement was made and he heard Boromir’s startled exclamation of shock and joy at the sight of their son. He wanted to open his eyes, but right then, another pain ripped through him and  more pressure happened. He cried out and panted through it until he heard Celeborn say it was all okay and that the birth was done.

It was then that Aragorn cautiously opened his eyes only to see a small, red-faced, but oddly silent and composed baby staring at him and Boromir, who was sitting on the bed right beside him.

“Hey there. Want to say hello to your dam?” Boromir whispered as he placed the child on Aragorn’s chest.

For a split second, Aragorn felt a slight pang of panic. Apart from extremely rare occasions, he had never really held a baby. He had been a warrior and a spy. Children were simply a nebulous idea when he had been younger. Even when Arwen kept hinting about being mates, it wasn’t something that he had seen himself being involved in.

And now, here he was, exhausted from childbirth and worrying that he was going to do something stupid with his own son.

“You’re okay. You won’t drop him.” Boromir murmured as he helped settle the little one in his mate’s arms. Aragorn let him, surprise all over his face at how deftly Boromir was handling the baby, who was now starting to snuffle a bit as he recognized his dam and his source of nourishment.  Boromir saw this and smiled ruefully.

“Celeborn taught me when you were still busy.”

Aragorn laughed and Boromir shrugged, although his cheeks were slightly pink.

“It wasn’t like either of us were around children that much to know what to do with them.” Boromir pointed out reasonably. Aragorn nodded before looking down and seeing his son smacking his lips and trying to look around.

“He might be hungry.” Celeborn suggested apologetically, not wanting to intrude on the family bonding anymore than he had to.

“Oh. Oh!” Aragorn exclaimed, struggling to sit up, but being stopped by Boromir, who unbuttoned the light shirt Aragorn was wearing to allow their son access. With a few more instructions, the baby was nursing heartily. Celeborn made his excuses and slipped out, leaving them alone as a family.

“We forgot something.” Boromir whispered, not wanting to break the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

“What?” Aragorn murmured, his energy finally drained over the day’s events.

“We never did decide on a name. You were so sure he was going to be a girl.”  Boromir teased, making Aragorn laugh quietly as he remembered how sure he had been of that exact fact.

“He surprised us, that’s for certain.” Aragorn agreed, stroking his son’s fingers and letting him curl his hand around his two fingers in a surprisingly strong grip for a newborn.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“Beregond as a middle name. Wouldn’t be fair for me to pick the name when you did all the hard work and risked your life for it.” He added, keeping his tone light.

But Aragorn knew that Boromir had been afraid for him when the labour didn’t seem to have an end and he was in agony. He knew that if their positions had been switched, he would have felt the same. He didn’t have it in him to deny that it was true. Especially when Boromir would just know.  So he kept quiet and tried to come up with a name that wouldn’t be a mouthful or carry too much history with it.

He wasn’t part of that old world, of all those hurts and wars and deaths. He deserved a new name without ties to all that turmoil. He wracked his mind for a few more minutes until he found it. He had only heard it once, a long time ago. Maybe even in Rivendell. He didn’t know. All he knew was that it was perfect.

“Eldarion. Eldarion Beregond Steward.”

“Perfect.” Boromir whispered before they kissed.

Four

Fili rushed through the halls of the hospital, his heart thudding in his chest as he rushed to room 435. They had told him that was where he’d find them. He didn’t delay once he had gotten that information. All he wanted to do was to see if they were correct. After two years and countless rumours, he wasn’t going to take anyone’s word for it. He had to see the proof with his own eyes. He was the only one to do it, since the Queen Regent was mired in politics as the peace accords began.

He had been lucky that he had been deemed too young to attend as per the tattered council that remained, which left him time to find out where they were keeping Kili and his uncle Thorin.  He had only gotten bits and pieces from Oropher and Amroth, who only had some leads. The man that held the most information, the Elder Steward of Gondor, was with his Omega and child, the first born on free land. Despite his desire to see his family, Fili wasn’t a tactless fool to demand information at that time. He would find them. He had done more with less.

Those thoughts were tumbling about in his head as he rushed past the rest of the wing to find room 435, which was smack in the middle of the hallway. Breathing a sigh of relief and whispering a small prayer of thanks to the Mahal, he knocked on the door gently.

He wasn’t expecting anyone to come to the door when he knocked, but as he moved to enter, a slight figure wearing a too big blue jumper and hospital issue trousers hurried to the door. Fili blinked, not quite sure at who it was that he was seeing. The features were sharp and gaunt, the eyes faded and dull. Close cropped hair completed the picture and although there was a slight sense of familiarity, Fili couldn’t quite be sure if it was really Kili that he was seeing or if he had stumbled upon the room of another refugee Omega. The scent was there, sweet and mild like all Omegas, but no personal markers were present.

He smiled cautiously and tried to not let his disappointment show as he moved to extricate himself of the situation as quickly and as gracefully as he could.

Or he would have if it hadn’t been for the Omega’s eyes widening and his face being completely transformed by the wide smile that spread across his face. It was then that Fili could see the little brother that he had lost all those years.

“Fili! FIli! It’s you! It really is you!” Kili exclaimed, his eyes shining with tears of pure joy as he hurled himself into his brother’s arms and embracing him tighter than Fili had thought possible, since he could feel most of Kili’s bones under the thick jumper.

“Kili?”

Fili turned around at the sound of that voice. Despite the years and the hardships that he knew now that they had faced, his uncle Thorin’s voice still held that rich, powerful timbre that he remembered from lullabies and nightly gatherings. His smile got wider as Thorin stood there, wrapped in the same clothes as Kili. His hair wasn’t as short and there were the beginnings of a white-streaked beard on his face.

His eyes widened as he rushed towards his nephews and embraced them both.

“Oh lad! We thought we weren’t ever going to see you again!” Thorin exclaimed, his low voice raw with emotion as they embraced, Kili already in tears as his joy got the better of him.

“Me neither. I just had...I just had bits and pieces of a trail. I didn’t even think or dare to hope that I was going to find you here either.” Fili managed to get out, his voice cracking and breaking as he recalled all the fruitless days and nights of searching out leads and clues as they fought a war without their king and second heir. Their hopes hadn’t been high as they had entered the alliance with Amroth and Oropher’s resistance. But all of that was forgotten as he finally had his uncle and little brother in his arms, safe despite being a little worse for the wear.

“How did you get out?” He asked them once they had properly scented each other and renewed their family bonds with each other.

“Amroth Doriath and Oropher Mirkwood got us out of the holding facilities, but not without a fight. Boromir Steward and Aragorn Telcontar did the rest along with Gondor’s forces. They got all of us out during the last battle.”

Thorin explained, his voice steady as he recounted the story in as few words as possible. Although he wanted to know the details, Fili suspected, just by the way that his uncle’s eyes narrowed and the way he rubbed at his thigh as if easing an old hurt, that there were less than savoury details he was leaving out. His eyes flickered to his brother, who gave him a brief shake of his head before he made a surreptitious signal that had been a mainstay since childhood.

Fili relaxed then, knowing full well that Kili would tell him. In time. But it would be done. He decided to drop the issue and focus on savouring their company.

“Tell us, is Ered Luin salvageable? Or Erebor?” Thorin asked, making Fili wince internally. Ered Luin was no more. Erebor was no more. Their home under the mountain was destroyed, stripped to the bone and they had no home.  That was the main reason for their presence at the peace table. They needed to find a home within Canada for the Durin folk.

And Fili couldn’t bring himself to break his uncle’s heart right after finally finding him.

Luckily, he was spared the awkwardness when the nurse came to remind them that visiting hours were done and that he was welcome to come the next day.

“Tomorrow, uncle. Tomorrow I will tell you all.” Fili promised as he stood up and embraced them both before departing. Thorin and Kili both nodded as they reluctantly broke the embrace. Neither had been near their family Alphas in so long that they were loath to break the contact. Even if it was for a brief time.

“Will you bring your mother with you?”

“I will. She must know you both are safe and well. We all had thought the worst. She will be relieved to know that it is not the case and that we again have hope.”

Thorin looked away and tried to not let Fili how much his words affected him. Kili wiped his eyes and stood closer to Thorin, who put his arm around his shoulders, making Fili wonder how often that gesture had been repeated between them.

“I will see you tomorrow, Kili, Uncle.”

His throat closed up as he gave them another farewell and left them. He would be back tomorrow, he knew that.

But it still didn’t ease the pain of leaving them behind. Even if it was just for one day.

He would have to get them to come home with them. Soon.

They were the hope of the Durinssens. They needed to come home.

Five

Amroth was locking up the house when he felt a presence behind him. Despite knowing full well that he was in his father’s home and that he was safe, he was still a soldier first.  He stiffened, but suppressed the urge to attack when the familiar scent of tea and vanilla warmth hit him.

“I thought you’d be asleep, Ada.” He commented casually as he received the cup of tea that his dam was holding. Although other elves thought it a major breach of manners that he called Celeborn his Ada, Amroth didn’t care. Celeborn, as far as he was concerned, was his Ada. He didn’t consider the bastard that had been his biological father anything more than a genetic donor. He was all too aware of what Celeborn had sacrificed to have him.

Even if it was a small thing, he would honour him and acknowledge his Ada’s sacrifice.

“I would have been, but Estel’s son decided to arrive earlier than expected.”

Amroth grinned at the news. “Really? Our little Estel is finally grown up! What did he call the little rugrat?”

“Eldarion.”

“Good name for new blood. Lord knows we need it around here. I’ll pay my respects after the reports are handed in tomorrow. Funny thing about war is that they never tell you how much there will be to clean up afterward.”

Celeborn smiled faintly as he and his son sat down at the table and drank their tea as they always had done when Amroth returned from his duties.

“They will be pleased. I don’t think either of them really expected to be parents, warriors as they are.”

“I don’t know how you did it, after all these years, to be honest. You must have worried so much when I was in the field, with Elladan sniping and me out in the field.”

Celeborn turned his cup and shrugged delicately.

“I worried. What parent doesn’t? But there was a war on and I had you both trained as best as I possibly could. You are adults. I couldn’t stand in the way of your choices, because I am fully aware of how it feels like to have most of your choices taken away from you.”

Amroth winced, but said nothing. What could he say? He knew why he had been pushed into training and why Elladan had gotten put in the Corps. Why Elrohir stuck to his brother like a shadow and why Arwen had kept her distance. It hadn’t ever been his Ada’s fault. None of it ever had been. But he still had to pay the price while the war still raged and the old hurts were held so close.

But it was all over. The old order was done. Those stupid rules were gone.

“The war is over, Ada. You don’t have to carry your burden alone. My sister is home. Elladan is safe. I’m safe. It’s finally over, Ada.”

Celeborn looked up from his tea, a surprised expression on his face as the words sunk in. Amroth reached over the table and covered his Ada’s hands with his.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Amroth kissed his Ada’s temple and laughed softly.

“It is, Ada. It is.”

END.

**Author's Note:**

> Last Names-Their titles ended up as their last names, since the clans/kingdoms are done now. Amroth, since he is not related to Galadriel at all, is known as Doriath after Celeborn's birthplace.   
> Ada-father in Elvish if I recall it correctly. Amroth should technically be calling Celeborn his Nana, since Celeborn gave birth to him. But as far as he is concerned, Celeborn is both to him and he addresses him as his father out of respect.


End file.
